


Origin Stories: Kiwi

by FormulaFerrari



Series: Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers [12]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9590921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: In an AU where a secret species is used as Racing Drivers, most Drivers have a story about how they met their match.The story of Brendon Hartley and how he got/met his Racing Driver Kiwi





	1. 6 Hours of Silverstone - 2016

_Kiwi!_

Panic shook through Brendon as he watched the Porsche screech across the gravel. He was powerless to intervene as the car rolled onto its side, threatening to roll over. A whole course of emotions were rushing through him, but the biggest being fear. Brendon took a shaky breath as the car came to a stop, reaching down his bond to his Racing Driver.

_Kiwi, are you OK?_

Brendon could feel that Kiwi wasn’t interested in himself, but more so the car. He was checking her over, trying to get her to fire up so he could carry on racing. Kiwi was upset when she didn’t respond to him, his fingers flying over the buttons on the steering wheel.

_Brendon, she’s hurt!_

It was a horrible feeling to know his match needed his comfort but they were too far away. Kiwi liked to tuck under his arm when he was sad. Curl into a little ball and let Brendon protect him form the world. But with Brendon in the garage, his face hidden by a balaclava, and Kiwi out on track, there was no way for them to get close to each other.

_Are you hurt, Kiwi?_

Brendon was watching intently as the live feed switched to the on board of the #1 Porsche. He could now see Kiwi frantically fighting with the buttons on the steering wheel as well as feel his determination to get the car fired back up. But more dread pounded through Brendon as he saw Kiwi reach up and touch the top of his helmet.

_Did you hurt your head?_

_…I’m fine…_

_Kiwi?!_

_I just bumped it on the ceiling as she rolled…_

_Get out._

Brendon had had enough of this. Now Kiwi could be hurt. This was all the team’s fault. They’d told him to get Kiwi to push. Brendon had been so against it. Kiwi was running fine, they were leading, there was no threat from behind. Why had they forced him to make Kiwi push harder?

_But, Brendon-_

_I said get out of the car, Kiwi._

Someone grabbed his arm, pulling his attention away from the screen where he could see Kiwi climbing out of the car. Brendon was briefly aware of Mannschaft rushing around getting ready to take over from Kiwi when he got it back to the pits. Brendon didn’t care. If Kiwi was hurt this was all the teams doing and he was furious about it.

Much to his unsurprised, it was Andreas Seidl who was dragging him to the back of the garage.

“Tell him to get back in that car.” Andreas grumbled. Brendon folded his arms.

“No.” His defiance came as a shock to Andreas.

“No?”

“He’s hurt.” The scoff that followed his statement made Brendon’s blood boil.

“He just needs to get the car back here, Brendon.”

“If you hadn’t have pushed me to force him to push he wouldn’t have crashed.” Brendon countered. “I’m not telling him to get back in that car.”

“Then you’re ruining this race. For everyone.” Andreas growled, pointing to the other two Racing Drivers in the garage over his shoulder. Rabbit, hovering around the balaclava wearing ‘mechanic’ that was Mark, was looking over in his direction with what could have been curiosity. Mannschaft was just gesturing frantically trying to find out what was going on. “Get him back in the car.”

“He bumped his head.” Brendon shot; his anger at Andreas’ apparent lack of care that Kiwi could be hurt getting to the better of him. Andreas folded his arms.

“So?” Brendon curled his fists, only biting his tongue as Kiwi send worry down there bond at his sudden flood of rage.

_Brendon?_

“It’s just a bump, Brendon. He’ll be fine. Now get him back in the car.”

“And what if he’s not fine.” Brendon gritted, glaring at the screen as they showed repeat after repeat of Kiwi’s crash. It could have been so much worse.

“… We will have to work something out.”

And there it was, just as Brendon had feared; apparently Kiwi would be just that replaceable.

_Get on that bike. Come back to the pits._

_I can get the car back?_

_No. Leave her there._

Without sharing another word to either Kiwi or Andreas, Brendon took his radio off his head and stormed out the back of the garage. It had been on Brendon’s mind for some time now, just how simply they would replace him and his Racing Driver if anything were to happen to either of them. He feared for Kiwi more than himself. Kiwi was just a kid, there was so much of his life and his career ahead of him. Brendon wanted to believe that his age gave him some sort of immunity to the cruelty he had heard that occurred in racing paddocks but that appeared to not be the case.

He remembered just a few years back when Rabbit had had a massive crash in Brazil. Brendon hadn’t understood why Mark was so inconsolable, why he didn’t even wait thirty seconds before he shot out the back of the garage to the motorhome where he locked himself for the next two hours. Brendon had been trying to explain to an even younger Kiwi why Mark had hidden away, but he himself didn’t understand.

It had all made sense to Brendon in that moment. Watching the car nearly flip with his other half inside, to feel his lifeline tugged at. Even if he just suffered it for thirty seconds it was enough to appreciate how agonizing that crash and that time would have been for Mark.

Ripping off his balaclava, Brendon fell back onto one of the beds set up in the motorhome and tried to still his breathing. Kiwi was fine, he was safe and he was out the car. He’d bumped his head but as soon as he got back to the motorhome Brendon was going to check him and if he needed to take him to the trained Racing Driver medic to get a second opinion.

It didn’t take long for Brendon to be calmed down. Closing his eyes, Kiwi was doing everything in his power to assure Brendon he was OK. All the way down to singing that soft lullaby-like song that Kiwi always sung before he went to sleep, or whenever Brendon would be leaving. It was always the same song. Right from the first time Brendon had met Kiwi.


	2. Flat in East Germany - 2006

“Brendon!”

“Oof!” Brendon grumbled as something hard hit him in the stomach, abruptly pulling him from his half asleep state. But the excited mass of the person kept scrambling all over him, trying to rip the duvet from his grasp. “Getoff.”

“Biggest news and you’re trying to get back to sleep!”

“I don’t care who you pulled last night…” Brendon yawned, pulling the duvet over his head as he kicked at the person still trying to take it from him. Originally Brendon had been grateful for his brother – Nelson – joining him when he moved to East Germany to continue pursuing his single-seater career. On mornings like these he really wished the older Hartley had stayed in Palmerston North.

“She was a looker.” Nelson poked, ripping the covers from Brendon’s grasp. “But that’s not the news.”

“What is it then…” Brendon grumbled, rolling onto his other side and trying to get comfy again without his duvet. Sometimes his brother was the biggest pain in the arse.

“There was someone at your race.” Nelson said, almost smugly. It took a moment for the words to sink into Brendon’s half asleep mind.

“What?” He asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“There was a scout.” Nelson enthused. Brendon blinked at him.

“You on the wind up?” Brendon questioned, watching his brother closely. With the biggest smile, Nelson cleared his throat, unfolding the letter that had been in his hand.

“Dear Mr Hartley, after seeing you impressive performance on track we would be honoured if you would accept to come for a meeting with us to discuss the terms of your sponsorship.”

“No way…” Brendon’s eyes were wide as the words sunk into his skin. This was really happening. He’d been on the brink of going back to New Zealand with his tail between his legs but someone had come along and provided the one thing that could keep him progressing through his career: money.

“Blah blah blah blah blah, signed Red Bull.” Nelson grinned, thrusting the letter out towards Brendon. Brendon’s jaw hit the floor. His hands shook as he took the letter from his brother. His eyes locked on the Red Bull logo at the top. “Red Bull baby bro! Red Bull want to sign my kid brother!” Nelson yelled delightedly. Brendon couldn’t say anything. He was took in shock.

“I swear to God if you printed this out…”

“Would I.” Nelson scoffed, pulling Brendon under his arm. Brendon gripped a hand into the back of his brother’s shirt, grounding himself as he read over and over that Red Bull wanted to sponsor him.

This was it. He was getting into the big boys game now.


	3. Red Bull Racing Facility - 2007

“WHAT!” Brendon yelled, pushing to his feet. How dare they? How dare they do this to him! He was absolutely furious. One year into the contract that was supposed to be his ticket into Formula One and they were pulling the rug from under his feet.

“You signed the contract, Brendon-”

“-Fuck your contract!” Brendon screamed, kicking his chair back and across the room. The man across the desk form him - Mr Horner, Brendon thought he remembered – just continued to sit calmly, as if this was a reaction he expected. Brendon took a deep breath. Telling his biggest sponsor to go fuck themselves probably wasn’t the best idea but he was furious. How dare they do this to him! He’d worked his arse off his whole career for this chance and after only one year of being signed and giving him the best opportunities and meeting the most prestigious names in his sport he was being set to the side. No. He would not have it.

“He and you are very much the same, Brendon.”

“I don’t give a fuck if we’re fucking identical! He’s not taking my seat!”

“It’s our seat.” Mr Horner reminded him calmly. Brendon wanted to yell at him more. His calmness was really starting to piss him off.

“I’m not doing it. He can’t race with my name. I’m not sitting on the sidelines whilst someone else has all my glory!”

“You’re not seeing it correctly.” Mr Horner said, still in that infuriating tone. As if he was talking to a child. Brendon was not a child. “He would not be taking your glory but gifting it. All credit would go to you.”

“That’s cheating. I don’t cheat. I work hard and I earn my own merits.” Brendon gritted, puffing his chest out.

“That’s business.” Mr Horner said. Brendon clenched his fists.

“He is not having my name or my seat.”

“You signed a contract, Brendon.” Mr Horner said, searching for something in the filing cabinet under his desk. The contract was placed in front of Brendon, with Mr Horner’s hand left out in an invitation/indication for Brendon to sit and read it. With his chair halfway across the room, Brendon snatched up the document, flicking to the page that had been conveniently sticky tabbed.

_Under the desires of Red Bull Racing, any young driver can be subject to having a replacement race under their name for the duration of their contract with Red Bull Racing. This clause can be activated at any point in a young driver’s career after consideration and contemplation with all directors of Red Bull Racing._

“You can always buy out of your Red Bull contract….” Brendon gritted his teeth. He knew that Mr Horner and everyone knew that if he wanted to continue on into his racing career, and hopefully into Formula One, he needed financial backing. Red Bull appeared to be the only ones willing to give that to him. And to buy out of his contract… Well that would mean instant bankruptcy. He couldn’t afford it, and now Mr Horner’s calm nature was making sense. However much Brendon stomped his feet or threw his toys out of his pram he was stuck: he had no choice but to do what Red Bull said.

“I want to race him.” Brendon said with certainty, standing tall. Mr Horner cocked an eyebrow at him. “If he’s supposed to be me then he has to be as good as me. If he wins, I’ll do whatever you want, no arguments. If he loses, I continue to race under my name.” He knew he was in no position to be calling the shots here, but he had to do whatever he could to save his seat. He wanted to be racing under his name and earning his achievements, not whoever the hell they were planning on replacing him with.

“Alright…” Mr Horner said with an intrigued half smile. “If you win against him, we’ll discuss the terms of your contract.” Brendon tried to wipe his sweaty hand subtly on his jeans before he shook the hand Mr Horner was holding out to him. “You can race karts, is that OK?”

“O-OK…” Brendon swallowed, his nerves getting the better of him as Mr Horner stood up. He’d just yelled and sworn at the people who were paying to put him in a racecar and challenged their authority and their decision. It was only just dawning on his what ramifications this could have on his future. Would Red Bull want to put a driver into Formula One who was difficult to handle?

“We have a kart circuit on site.” Mr Horner smiled, holding open the door. Brendon stared at him.

“We’re racing now?” He asked, a little panicked. Mr Horner just continued to smile at Brendon with that smile that showed only confidence and no fear at their little arrangement.

“Oh yes. He’ll be all ready to go by time we get down there.” Mr Horner was trying to intimidate him. But it wasn’t going to work. Brendon forced himself to stand taller and square up to Mr Horner. He was from Palmerston North and had the speed to take on anyone in a racecar. He could beat this other kid no problem. At the end of the day he was racing for his name. Nothing was more important than this.

“Better not keep him waiting then.” Brendon said, as confidently as he could. As they headed to the kart circuit, that was located in a separate building that Brendon had never visited before, Brendon tried his hardest to push his fear away and focus on everything he’d every learned about racing a go-kart. This would be the most important race of his life and he could not lose it.

\- -

It was a disaster. Whoever this kid was had made him look like an amateur, like he’d never even seen a car before, let alone raced one. Brendon was angry that he had lost, but in all honest he was more shocked at by just how much he had lost by. It hadn’t even been close. The other kid had annihilated him.

Climbing out of the kart, Brendon pulled off his helmet, heading off towards the other kid. Before he even got a chance to get close two men were leading the boy off. Brendon frowned after him, as he was lead into an adjoining room. The other boy hadn’t even taken his helmet off.

“So,” Brendon rolled his eyes at Mr Horner’s voice before turning around to look at the older man. He was looking cheerfully smug and it really pissed Brendon off. “You lost.”

“Don’t have to remind me…” Brendon mumbled, kicking at the gravel under his feet.

“And per our agreement-”

“-Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Brendon huffed, looking down at his helmet. That was it then? His last race ever and he’d lost it. Brendon glared at the patterns on the top of his lid. “Who is he then?”

“All in good time, Brendon.” Mr Horner smiled, hooking an arm over his shoulder and leading him away from the track. Brendon shrugged him off. “How about we head back to my office and-”

“-No. I want to talk about that kid.” Brendon shot, turning his glare on Mr Horner. He just continued to smile.

“We can discuss it all in my office.”

“I want to talk to him. His lines were…” Brendon couldn’t find the words.

“I know.” Mr Horner nodded in agreement.

“Right… So he’s just through-?”

“-No, Brendon.” It was the first time Mr Horner hadn’t been upbeat and cheery. The hand that had clamped onto Brendon’s shoulder was tight and painful.

“I just want to-”

“-All in good time.” Mr Horner was steering him away. Brendon’s eyes were fixed on the door that the other boy had been lead through until it was out of sight. “We need to discuss the nature of your training.”

“Training?” Brendon frowned as Mr Horner took him back across to the familiar Red Bull building. The older man held open the door for the young boy.

“We have a great deal to discuss.”


	4. Red Bul Racing Training Compound - 2008

He’d been a year in training. Learning all the gestures and the care procedures and anything else that it was ‘critical’ he knew before today arrived. Brendon was certain everything he had been taught in his training was ‘critical to know’. He’d heard the phrase so much he was beginning to question if it was even a real phrase that had any sort of meaning.

The whole concept was still boggling him. Racing Drivers that were an entirely different species but just so happened to look identical to a select few. The whole lie of his sponsorship with Red Bull had come apart at the seams just after he had raced his match. The real reason behind putting money behind him, getting him to sign that bloody contract. All because they just so happened to have one of these Racing Drivers that looked like him.

It can be assured, initially Brendon was by no means impressed.

As it turned out, his whole career thus far had come to this. Teams had signed him; he had gotten drives because the FIA knew that someday his match would be ready for him. A memo had been passed around the motorsport world to keep an eye out for him because he had a Racing Driver in some stable somewhere. Or so, that’s how it all felt to Brendon.

In his last year of racing (the last year he himself would actually set foot in the car) he’d considered this a lot. It wasn’t his talent that had gotten him to where he was and the opportunities he had received, it had been because a Racing Driver had just so happened to look like him. And all those ‘great drivers’, those he had been awe-filled with to get the privilege of just meeting them or passing them in the paddock, they weren’t great at all. They were just masks. Cover-ups because their doubles couldn’t talk.

Whilst waiting to be called into the room where his match was apparently sat, Brendon had been flicking through his match’s file. It had been interesting enough, and pretty much what he expected to an extent. All but his age. And it was his match’s age that had Brendon storming out of the Red Bull Stable and across the complex to Mr Horner’s office.

He didn’t even knock.

“He’s thirteen?!” Brendon outburst, barging into Mr Horner’s meeting. The man with his back to Brendon was sent an apologetic look before Mr Horner got to his feet.

“Brendon, they may be waiting for you-”

“-I’m nearly nineteen and you’re matching me with a thirteen year old!” Brendon raged. This was ridiculous. This kid was supposed to look like him and be like him and Brendon was supposed to make sure they looked the same. How in the World was he supposed to make a thirteen-year-old look nearly nineteen!?

“Brendon, calm down. It’s fine. You need to go back-”

“-What am I a baby sitter? I thought we were pursuing a career! I thought we were getting into Formula One!”

“Brendon-”

“-He’s not going to look anything like me! We’re not going to be racing for years! And what if he ends up not looking like me-?”

“-He’s been enhanced.” Mr Horner cut firmly, stopping Brendon sharply in his tracks. Brendon opened and closed his mouth a few times before looking back down at the file in his hands. “You were ready first.”

“… What?” Brendon asked, frowning at the words he’d barely been skimming earlier, as if they would hold the answer.

“You were ready before your Racing Driver. We couldn’t risk one or neither of you missing out on each other so we… Enhanced his growth.” Brendon turned his frown to Mr Horner.

“You…?”

“Now is not the time to get into it. It’s been explained to you how important matching is. You need to be there and be ready to go in.” Mr Horner spoke sharply, as if telling off a child. Brendon snapped the file shut.

“Fine. But I’m not done talking about this.”

“We’ll get into it with you once everything is sorted out.” Mr Horner nodded. With a sharp nod himself, Brendon placed the file on Mr Horner’s desk and headed for the door. “Sorry about that interruption, Mark…”

Brendon tried to push what he had just found out from his head but it was proving difficult. His Racing Driver had been enhanced to match him. What the hell did that even mean? And he was six years younger than him. Was Brendon going to have to care for him? Look after him as if he were a dependent child? That really wasn’t what Brendon had signed up for.

It was all forced from his mind as he heard the knock on the door from the other end of the corridor. Brendon picked up a light jog, not giving himself time to consider everything that was about to happen as he took the door handle and pulled open the door.

Brendon froze in the doorway as three men tried to pin his Racing Driver down whilst another three where yelling to each other. The helmeted kid in the middle of the carnage was squirming around like he was on fire. It forced Brendon to recoil. The revs that were screaming from the helmeted kid weren’t the pleasant rumbles of an engine as you fire up a car, but more of the sound an engine would make if there were something terribly wrong with it. It sounded in pain. Brendon caught himself as he started to back out of the room.

Standing tall, Brendon forced himself back into the room and closed the door behind him, forcing the screams of the engine to echo around the room. Brendon just wanted to calm the Racing Driver down, but he didn’t feel like he knew how. All his training had taught him was at this moment he would have to take the Racing Driver’s helmet off and look him in the eye. It was imperative he did not look away first. But with the screaming of the engine bouncing around his head Brendon couldn’t think straight at all.

“JUST STOP!” Brendon yelled suddenly, startling everyone in the room. The Racing Driver took the lapse of concentration from the handlers to force them off him and dart to the other side of the room. The men started scrambling to their feet. “No!” Brendon threw out a hand, his eyes locked on the Racing Driver cowering in the corner. He was visibly shaking, the engine sounds he was producing trying to sound menacing but stuttering too much as he shook. “Leave him alone.” Brendon said quietly as he started approaching the Racing Driver.

He kept his movements slow and steady, keeping his arm out in front of him and palm up towards the racing driver. Still keeping his movements slow, Brendon started gesturing towards the Racing Driver. [It’s OK. You’re not going to be hurt. You are safe]. He wasn’t sure exactly how well he was doing but the Racing Driver didn’t retreat from him (not that it had far it could go). It just continued to shake in fear, clutching a hand on either side of it’s helmet as if it were covering it’s ears.

When Brendon got close enough, he lightly touched the Racing Driver’s shoulder. The Racing Driver recoiled a little, revving weakly, but Brendon just secured his grip. He sat down beside the Racing Driver and slowly began to slide his arm around the Racing Driver’s shoulders. It was something Nelson had done on countless occasions when Brendon had been up awake with worry. He’d sit him by the window and hook him under his arm and just hold him. Nelson never needed to say anything, Brendon was always just content to have him there, to feel him there. It was the best form of comfort Brendon knew and he just hoped it worked as well for the Racing Driver as it did for him.

After all, his Racing Driver was really still only a kid.

He would not have believed that as he lifted the Green helmet off the Racing Driver under his arm. The Racing Driver pushed away from him once his helmet was off, sitting tall with his legs folded in front of him. Brendon saw the challenge the little Racing Driver was giving. He knew he had to meet it. But he stuttered for a moment at the sheer likeliness to him the Racing Driver’s appearance held. He honestly could have been looking in a mirror.

Not giving it another thought, Brendon took hold of the Racing Driver’s chin and tipped his head up so he was forced to look at him. It felt like they held eye contact for an age. The little Racing Driver was pushing Brendon hard, forcing him to fight for the connection, forcing him to use everything in his arsenal to not look away first. Brendon just sat tall, throwing everything back at the Racing Driver.

It felt like the air crackled at the Racing Driver dropped his head. Brendon hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath.

“Now you can name him.” The woman behind the desk smiled, sliding Brendon over his Racing Driver’s forms. Brendon took the pen into his hand but his mind was drawing a blank. He hadn’t ever had to name anything before, not even a pet. He didn’t know where to start with coming up with a name for someone else. He turned over his shoulder to look at his Racing Driver. The kid just cocked his head at him, as if he too had just been tasked at giving Brendon a name.

Looking at the young Racing Driver that no one would ever know was six years younger than him, Brendon just felt proud. The Racing Driver had proven the year before how much he could give and would give to Brendon. He had gone beyond just beating him to make sure he knew just how much better than the human he was. The Racing Driver was clearly proud of his talent, and that made Brendon proud of him too. Proud of his confidence and his ease in knowing he was incredible. It was the epitome of proudness.

“Kiwi. How patriotic.” The woman smiled, looking over Brendon’s form. Brendon turned to face the newly named Kiwi.

[Do you like your name?] Brendon gestured, after making a hashed attempted at gesturing ‘kiwi’ to Kiwi. He summed it up with gesturing proudness. It wasn’t a direct translation, but it was how Brendon had ended up on Kiwi.

[I like it a lot] Kiwi gestured back. It made Brendon smiled; their first proper conversation.


	5. Red Bull Racing Facility - Early Season 2010

They’d been racing in a handful of series in parts but nothing seemed solid. He’d seen drivers in his position get into GP3 and GP2 and stay there until they progressed on. He was lucky if he could pick up three races outside of Formula 3.5. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the chances he was getting but he just wanted to see them progress a bit further. His teammate, Daniel – with a Racing Driver called Oz – was already talking about how in a few years he was looking at stepping up into Formula One. Brendon had thought he was on that same path but after having been replaced by Daniel as the Red Bull and Toro Rosso reserve driver he felt more like he was going backwards than forwards.

He’d come in today to talk to Mr Horner about what the hell Red Bull was planning for Kiwi and him.

Seeing that the office door was closed, Brendon decided to wait for a bit. Mr Horner could have been in a meeting and Brendon was sure he was still annoyed at him for barging into his office on the day he was matched with Kiwi.

About half an hour passed before Brendon started to get a little bored. At this point he wasn’t even sure if Mr Horner was in his office. He decided it best if he check before knocking, just in case there was a meeting going on. Looking down the corridor to make sure no one was watching him, Brendon pushed off the wall he had been leaning on and crossed the corridor to Mr Horner’s door. He pressed his ear against the edge of the door, listening for any sound of movement inside.

“The bottom line is that we had a contract and you’ve screwed with it.”

Brendon leaned away from the door, frowning in confusion. Clearly Mr Horner was in some sort of meeting so Brendon would have to wait. But his intrigue on the matter being discussed in the office had him pressing his ear back to the door.

“No we did not. Red Bull did entirely as allowed with their own colts-”

“-Bullshit, Christian. You knew our deal. That wasn’t your colt!”

“It was. You may have chosen one of the other colts in that litter.”

“You never gave us the option. Now he probably can’t be sent to studding.”

“We increased his value.”

“I see. So this _is_ a money game for you. Now if we want him we need to pay do we? Even though without our mare he wouldn’t even exist!”

“We found your match. We gave him his value.”

“We could have done that.”

“All we’re asking for is a finders feed.”

“That’s bollocks! You found the match a new the colt wouldn’t age in time. You blocked us from doing the match after we secured the colt by giving him steroids!”

“It was important for the colt to age sooner. His match was ready and racing well. We needed to put the match in as soon as possible. We didn’t want another Coulthard.”

“He wasn’t yours to match. You gave him steroids to age him faster so you could charge us for him! You knew he was the best of the litter. You _knew_ we’d want him so you gave him a price tag!”

“It’s just good business.”

“You OK there?” Brendon jumped out of his skin, shoving himself across the hall and away from Mr Horner’s door as the new voice spoke. Soft laughing followed Brendon’s tumble onto the floor before a hand was offered to help him up. Brendon took the hand and pushed to his feet. “Something juicy I guess.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping…” Brendon said, straightening his shirt. The other man folded his arms.

“Of course not, mate.”

“I wasn’t!”

“It’s alright. I’m not gonna tell, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“So… What’d you hear?” Brendon narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“Why do you care?”

“Not everyday you wander down the corridor to see a little kiwi pressed up against the boss’ door. So it must be good.”

“It was nothing… Important…” Brendon muttered. But it was. It was to Brendon anyway. He was sure they were talking about Kiwi. He hadn’t heard of any other Racing Drivers who had been genetically enhanced so they got to a certain age quicker.

“Hey,” The man placed his hand on his shoulder, looking deep into Brendon’s eyes. It made Brendon feel like the man was trying to match with him, get a deeper bond. “You can tell me anything you know. I promise, it goes no further than me.” Brendon glanced at Mr Horner’s door. To be honest, this had been concerning him since he found out about Kiwi’s enhancement. Maybe it would help to get some things off his chest.

“Well-”

“-Ahh, Mark.” Mr Horner grabbed the attention of both Brendon and Mark as he opened the door they were stood beside. Mark straightened up. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Last meeting… Ran over.” Mr Horner glanced at the man who walked out of his office. He stood out from the three of them as his shirt carried the Volkswagen emblem rather than the Red Bull one. His eyes locked on Brendon.

“You must be Brendon Hartley.” He said, his eyes studying the young Kiwi. Brendon stood taller.

“I am.” There was a moment of silence before the Volkswagen man sent Mr Horner a look.

“Hmm…” Without another word the man headed off down the hallway, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Mark, if you will.” Mr Horner smiled, ushering Mark into his office. Mark turned back to Brendon.

“Kiwi is with Rabbit in the stables.” Mark said with a small smile. Brendon frowned at him. “They enjoy spending time together. Rabbit said they were arguing about who was faster on track.”

“Maybe one day we can find out.” Brendon smiled, subconsciously puffing out his chest. Brendon believed Kiwi and he could beat Mark and Rabbit. They were definitely faster.

“Hopefully one day we can.” Mark nodded before Mr Horner closed the door.


	6. Red Bull Racing Facility - Late Season 2010

“So that’s it?”

“We have reviewed your performance-”

“-Kiwi’s-”

“-Yes… Well he hasn’t won for a while.”

“Your cars keep failing. How can we win if your car fails.” Brendon said in a deadpan tone. This was not what he was hoping Mr Horner’s meeting would be about.

“Look, Brendon, your window is closed. Red Bull have no more they can offer you-”

“-Or want to offer us-”

“-And so we are terminating your contract.” Mr Horner said, speaking louder so as to talk over Brendon’s interruption. Brendon slumped back in his chair, folding his arms.

“What about my seat? I have a season to finish.”

“We have a replacement set to take over from the next race.”

“Don’t jump in my grave…” Brendon muttered, running his hands through his hair. He rested his chin on his palm. “What about Kiwi?”

“… What about Kiwi?”

“Well what is he going to do?”

“He will return to the stables.” Brendon blinked at Mr Horner.

“But he’s part of me. We’re… We’re one.”

“He is Red Bull property. You no longer are.”

“So he’s staying here?”

“Yes.”

“And I can come and see him.” Brendon nodded. Mr Horner shook his head.

“You are no longer a Red Bull employee.”

“But he’s part of me-!”

“-He is Red Bull property.” Mr Horner repeated.

“I want him with me.” Brendon sent hotly. They could take his seat, they could destroy his career but they could not keep him from Kiwi. Kiwi was part of him.

“You are more than welcome to purchase him from Red Bull.” Mr Horner shrugged, scribbling on a piece of notepaper. “I’m quite certain,” He said, tearing the page off the pad. “That you can’t afford him.” Brendon looked down at the number on the paper for a couple of seconds before the page was screwed up in his hand.

“I want to take him racing.”

“Well if another team sign you and want your Racing Driver they can contact us. We will arrange any deals they would like.”

“Kiwi and I are a package.” Brendon gritted. “You’re selling us as separate parts.”

“That’s business, Brendon.” Mr Horner said with an air of finality. “If you could leave your key card at reception as you leave that would be helpful.”

“I want to see Kiwi.” Brendon said. Mr Horner dragged some paper work towards him, carrying on as if Brendon wasn’t sat in front of him.

“You no longer have that permission.”

“He’s-!”

“-You can leave now or I can get security to escort you from the premises.” Mr Horner said, flicking the page of whatever he was working on. Brendon got to his feet.

“You can’t keep us apart. He is a part of me and I’m not leaving him here to rot.”

“The door is behind you, Mr Hartley.”

Stood in the car park, Brendon could just about see the stables. To those unknowing, they’d never spot the building off the back of the main Red Bull factory. But Brendon knew it was there. Brendon knew Kiwi was in there. He closed his eyes, reaching out to his match, hoping that Kiwi wouldn’t ignore him. When Kiwi was sad he usually shut down into himself. Brendon could only get him back by sitting with him and hooking his arm around him.

_It is true. They don’t want me to race anymore._

_It’s complicated._ Brendon sighed. He’d much prefer to have this conversation face to face with Kiwi.

_What do we do now?_

_I’m going to find you some more racing. So you keep training hard like we do and you keep practicing._

_Can’t you train with me?_

_No… Red Bull aren’t letting me see you for now…_

_But why not?!_

_It’s complicated, Kiwi, OK? But I am coming back. I’m coming back for you and we’re going to race more._

_I want you to watch me race. I want you to watch me practice and help me get better._

_I can’t… I really want to but I can’t. I need to find us more racing. So you stay with Rabbit, OK? You train with Rabbit and you get Rabbit to ask Mark if you can train with both of them. You like Rabbit and Mark, don’t you?_

_I like them. It’s more fun with you though._

_I know… But I’ll be back before you know it._

_Can I come with you? I’ll come and help you get us some racing!_

_No, Kiwi… You stay with Rabbit. Rabbit is going to take care of you until I come back, OK?_

_… I will miss you a lot._

_I will miss you more._ Brendon felt with a heavy heart. He was trying not to push his feelings onto Kiwi. He didn’t want his Racing Driver sad. But it was difficult to hide his feelings. He’d always been open with Kiwi. A soft song started flowing through his head from his bond to Kiwi. He recognised it from a time a long time ago.

_What is this song?_

_It’s my mothers. She would sing it when we were sad to cheer us up._

_I’ve heard it before…_

_How?!_

_The day we matched. I thought it was a random tune in my head but… It was you?_ Brendon opened his eyes, looking towards the building so far away form him where Kiwi was sat in his pen, singing his song to Brendon. It was soft like a lullaby, but uplifting in the same moment. A beautiful composition of the combination of gentle yet strong. Brendon let it fill his head as he drove away, his determination tripled in getting Kiwi away from the Red Bull stables.


	7. 24 Hours of Le Mans - 2012

It hadn’t been quick or easy, but he’d got there in the end. Finding the backing and a team that had the money/resources to get Kiwi out of Red Bull was hard enough, but Brendon remembered the conversation he had overheard all that time ago and gone straight to Volkswagen. A heck of a lot of meetings and debates and contract drafts later and finally Kiwi was out. Volkswagen was happy for Brendon to do whatever racing he could get a seat for, but the series specifications were a bit different.

_And they are my teammates?_

_You’re sharing your car with them, yes._ Brendon explained as he helped Kiwi suit up. He was starting the race in the Murphy Prototype LMP2 car so Brendon was taking the opportunity away from the team to have a moment with Kiwi. _You’ve been racing with them all weekend. You like them?_

_One of them is a human._

_But they’re OK, yeah? You are happy?_ Brendon was a bit concerned. It wasn’t really the racing Kiwi had been used too. Sports cars and sharing a cockpit. He had to remind his Racing Driver during the first practice sessions that his teammates needed some time in the cars.

_I am happy. The car is wonderful to race. She is a happy car._

_That’s great to hear._ Brendon beamed. He moved away from Kiwi to collect his helmet.

 _Can she win? Can we win with her?_ Brendon turned to see Kiwi cocking his head at him. Sometimes, for Brendon, it was easy to see Kiwi was still just a kid. If the World knew exactly what he had achieved at such a young age…

_We can try our best, kid, that’s all we ever do._

_I think she can win._

_You also think you can race her for the whole 24 hours._ Brendon teased, ruffling Kiwi’s hair. _You have to let the others have some fun._

 _I will! But I could!_ Kiwi said proudly. Secretly Brendon knew he could, but he wasn’t going to encourage Kiwi to take on the 24 Hours of Le Mans single handed. _Brendon…_

_Kiwi._

_There is a human racing in the team…_

_I know. You are OK with that?_

_Of course._ Kiwi nodded as Brendon put his helmet on him. _But…_

_But what?_

_I was thinking… Maybe one day…. One day you and I can race the 24 hours together? You can be the human on the team._ Kiwi added as a joke. Brendon smiled at him softly.

_Maybe one day, Kiwi. Just maybe._


	8. 6 Hours of Silverstone - 2016

_Brendon, I am fine._

_You always say that. But you could be hurt._ Brendon huffed, checking over Kiwi’s head. He’d made it back on the motorbike (claiming it was no where near as fun or fast as the car) and now Brendon was checking every inch of him.

_But I promise!_

_You nearly rolled her._

_I could have brought her back…_ Kiwi huffed as Brendon continued his examination. Brendon just shook his head. The fact no team members had even bothered to come and check on Kiwi since he had come back was telling enough. That’s how replaceable the Racing Driver’s were to teams. That’s how little interest there was in them beyond results. Brendon was still livid.

“How’s it going in here then?” Mark asked as he entered the room, knocking on the door as he opened it. Brendon just shrugged, still checking Kiwi over. “Rabbit says Kiwi says he’s fine.” Mark smiled, looking at the young Racing Driver as he shut the door behind his own.

“Kiwi always says he’s fine.” Brendon muttered, still one hundred per cent focused on his Racing Driver. He jumped a little when he felt hands on his.

“Rabbit wants to know if you’d feel better if he checked Kiwi out.” Mark relayed, leaning back against the door as he watched the encounter. Brendon smiled a little, moving his hands away from Kiwi and gesturing to Rabbit [yes, that would be nice, thank you]. Brendon took a step back to give Rabbit some space, deflating a little against the wall. “Ha, yeah, I’m not surprised.” Mark laughed a little. Brendon shot him a frown.

“What?”

“Rabbit said that Kiwi is saying he could have brought the car back.” Brendon let out a deep sigh.

“Look, I’m sorry about the race and the result but Kiwi was-”

“-You’d don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Mark said from across the room. Brendon watched him, waiting for the act to break and the angry at throwing away the race came out but it didn’t. “I get it. I’d have probably done the same to be honest.”

“Yeah?” They may have been teammates but Brendon would never not look up to Mark. Having his validation of his actions was reassuring to say the least.

“Timo still in the garage?”

“Yeah…”

“I can imagine Andreas isn’t too happy with me.” Brendon said, dropping his head back against the wall. Mark crossed the room to lean next to him.

“He’s… Yeah, maybe just stay in here a while.” Mark said with a slightly teasing tone. Brendon just shook his head.

“Well, when Andreas is matched with a Racing Driver and he has to watch them nearly flip a car and then have them tell you their head hurts, he can have an opinion on the matter.”

“Couldn’t agree more, mate.” Mark nodded, looking down at his feet. He exchanged a look with Rabbit, clearly communing telepathically, but he didn’t chose to voice his comments. Brendon stared at the ceiling.

“… He didn’t even care.”

“Huh?” Mark asked, pulling himself back to the conversation with Brendon. Brendon closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

“He didn’t even care Kiwi could have been hurt. He just wanted him to get back to racing.”

“They don’t care about anything but the results.” Mark agreed in a sombre tone. “Brazil was… Hard.”

“I can imagine.”

“You’ve got him yelling at you in one ear, saying you should have had better control, whilst your trying to communicate with the other half of you that’s not responding.” Brendon took hold of Mark’s wrist, squeezing it comfortingly.

“But he was fine. He’s fine, Mark.” Brendon muttered. Rabbit crossed to Mark, nudging him softly with his forehead. On instinct, Mark’s arm went around Rabbit’s shoulders, pulling him close. It made Brendon yearn to do the same with Kiwi; have him close. A moment of silence filled the room as the two men held their Racing Drivers close to them, telepathically being reassured they were all OK.

“Some of us aren’t happy.” Mark said quietly, watching Brendon closely. Brendon looked away from Kiwi to Mark, not having followed Mark’s point.

“Not happy about what?”

“The way they’re treated. The way they are viewed by the teams and the FIA. To the ones higher up, they’re just things to make race. They don’t matter to them. We don’t matter to them. In all honesty we’re here only because we look like them. We’re all just play things for them, and a group of us think it’s about time that stopped.”

“You’re going to take on the FIA?” Brendon gasped, shocked and confused. He’d heard rumbles of rebellions in the various paddocks he’d raced in but he never thought Mark would ever join one. From the sounds of things he may even be spearheading it.

“We’ve been collecting evidence for years. There is so much that goes on that most matches don’t even know about. We just want Racing Drivers to be recognised as people, to be given the rights to make their own decisions. Think about Kiwi, for example. He was forced to age just so he could be raced. Red Bull did that to get as many years out of him as possible. They make up this shit that it was done for you when really it was done for them.”

“What… I don’t know what you’re asking of me.” Brendon said, ignoring the questions Kiwi was throwing at him. He knew that the Racing Driver would get bored of waiting and probe around to find the answers himself. “Are you asking me to join your revolution?”

“No. I would never do that. It’s dangerous if the wrong people find you out.” Mark said seriously. “It’s more to let you know you’re not alone. Other people don’t like the treatment towards the Racing Drivers either. Personally, I just want all Racing Drivers and matches to be able to make their own decisions. Some matches were forced into racing when they wanted to do something completely different. It’s not only taking away the Racing Driver’s right but also affecting human rights.”

Brendon took a moment to take in everything Mark had said. He looked towards Kiwi, going down their bond to see what he was thinking of what Mark was insinuating. Kiwi was thinking of one thing only. Replaying a conversation the two of them had just before their first ever Le Mans race. Because there had been a human on the team.

Kiwi wanted to race and win Le Mans with Brendon.

“This evidence…” Brendon started, still looking at Kiwi. “You have a lot of it.”

“I’ve been collecting for years, even since before I knew about this group. There is a lot of stuff there.”

“We can nail them?” Mark couldn’t help but let the small smile filter onto his face.

“Oh yeah. Pin them to the wall for the rest of time.”

“And I don’t suppose evidence, files and confidential information I was given by Red Bull to help explain how Kiwi looked my age even though he’s six years younger and all the medical files on how that had effected him would be of any help to you?” Brendon said in a blasé tone as he fixed Kiwi’s hair.

“Might be nice as some light reading.” Mark smiled. Brendon nodded, smiling brightly at Kiwi.

_We’re going to fix the World, Kiwi. And once we have, we’re going to go and win the 24 Hours of Le Mans together as a team._

_Both racing the car?_

_Both racing the car._


End file.
